


six.

by rachelbee



Series: Weekly Challenge [4]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelbee/pseuds/rachelbee
Summary: Written for week four of officerparker's weekly challenge on tumblr! Rufus learns that Lucy and Wyatt have kissed a bit more than he originally thought. Set somewhere mid-season 2.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt really freaking confused me at first, but I started thinking about the conversation it represented, and then the last part happened. For the last part to make sense, I had to write about 5k words of backstory, so bear with me, kids: it's a long one.

The air conditioner in the conference room rattled to life, startling Wyatt as he and Rufus waited for Lucy. They’d just gotten back from chasing Emma through time, back in the 1820’s this time, and Lucy was taking longer than usual to get changed into her modern clothes due to her corset and abundance of undergarments. Jiya had texted Rufus five minutes ago saying they were still getting all the petticoats off.

Rufus had suggested as soon as they’d landed in the present that they all head to the bar, and Wyatt had offered to drive Lucy since she was staying at his place anyway; no sense in taking two separate cars, especially when she’d be drinking. Rufus had told Lucy they’d both wait for her and she’d rushed off to change out of her skirts, yelling something about ten minutes over her shoulder.

That was twenty minutes ago.

Rufus sighed, glancing at Wyatt who frowned as he scrolled through his phone. He and Lucy had become even closer since she’d learned about her mother’s involvement in Rittenhouse several months ago. Rufus knew they had feelings for each other; he and Jiya had discussed their obvious relationship at length, going as far to set bets as to who would make the first move.

Rufus shrugged inwardly; she never said he couldn’t help his chances.

“So, what’s going on between you and Lucy?” Rufus blurted out, and Wyatt’s head snapped up. He turned around in his chair, frowning at Rufus who was leaning up against the wall.

“What do you mean?” he asked warily, and Rufus chuckled, taking a seat next to Wyatt.

“Well,” he began, folding his hands in front of him, acting very serious. “I know you’ve kissed at least twice, since one is documented as one of the most famous photos in history,” he reminded Wyatt, and noticed a slight tinge of color on his cheeks. “And the other was literally right in front of me, when you were tailing John and Abigail Adams.” Rufus sighed, shrugging. “Just wondering what’s going on there, buddy.”

“It’s five,” Wyatt muttered, turning back in his seat. Rufus frowned, leaning forward.

“Come again?” Wyatt huffed, turning around to face Rufus.

“Five, we’ve kissed five times.”

_Five?_

“When were the other times?” Rufus asked incredulously. Were Lucy and Wyatt already dating? Had he lost the bet without even realizing it? Wyatt groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Are you really going to make me go through all of them?” Wyatt whined, glancing up at Rufus. Rufus nodded vigorously, and Wyatt sighed, turning his chair to face Rufus, his back to the door. “Fine,” he began, counting off on his fingers. “Bonnie and Clyde, keeping that creep away from Lucy, V-J Day, tailing John and Abigail Adams, and that one time we almost got caught eavesdropping.”

Rufus sat there, stone-faced, his mind reeling. Five times. They’d kissed five times? “Hold up, did you say ‘Bonnie and Clyde’?” Rufus repeated, frowning. “What’s that one?”

Wyatt ducked his head, his face turning red. “When we were with Bonnie and Clyde, we pretended we were engaged,” Wyatt explained. “Lucy had forgotten to take her engagement ring off, so Bonnie just assumed we were together.” Rufus nodded, believing that wholeheartedly;  _everyone_  just assumed Lucy and Wyatt were together, and then wondered why they weren’t. “Clyde wasn’t buying it, though, so I kissed her to sell the story.”

“You kissed her?” Rufus clarified. “So, what you’re saying is that you made the first move, then,” Rufus edged, but Wyatt shook his head.

“No, it was just for the mission,” Wyatt stated, looking down at the ground. “It was just playing a role.”

Rufus wondered how many times Wyatt had told himself that.

“Okay, so what were the others?”

* * *

_June 10, 1875_

Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus crept through the tavern, scanning the crowd for any sign of Emma or her new helpers.

“See anything?” Lucy asked next to Wyatt, and he shook his head, glancing back at Rufus. He knew they would be able to cover more ground if they split up, but he was wary about leaving Lucy on her own.

They were back in the Old West, in 1875, and many men had already tried to get their hands on her in her maroon corset and brown skirt. Wyatt’s eyes had widened as soon as she’d struggled to get into the Lifeboat that morning, her breasts heaving as she struggled to fasten her seatbelt.

Wyatt had never been more careful to not touch her when buckling her in. He had to control himself.

She’d torn off the sleeves of the gown itself, leaving her in just the corset, fanning herself in the heat, her hair falling in loose tendrils down her back. Wyatt realized he’d been staring and quickly averted his eyes before she noticed, glancing back at Rufus.

“Alright, let’s split up,” Wyatt suggested, nodding at Rufus. “You take the upstairs, Lucy and I will check the place out down here.” He reached into his side holster, handing a gun to Rufus. “Be careful,” he urged, and Rufus nodded, turning and heading for the stairs.

Wyatt carefully placed a hand at the small of Lucy’s back, guiding her through the tavern, careful not to touch any of her bare skin.

“Well, hello there, ma'am,” a voice drawled and Wyatt and Lucy both turned to find a man in a cowboy hat leering at Lucy. Wyatt pulled Lucy closer, his fingertips brushing her bare arm as he curled his arm tighter around her waist.

“Can I help you?” Wyatt asked, glaring at the man. He glanced at Wyatt quickly before returning his eyes to Lucy, his gaze roaming up and down her body. Wyatt clenched his fist and Lucy shifted closer to him.

“I’m a lot more fun than this guy,” the man said, ignoring Wyatt completely as he reached out, grabbing Lucy’s wrist and tugging her away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wyatt,” Lucy called and Wyatt quickly grabbed her hand in his, pulling her back. The man turned around, frowning as he realized Lucy wasn’t in his grasp anymore.

“Hey,” the man barked, walking up to Wyatt, his hand twitching by his side holster. Wyatt’s eyes widened as he weighed his options. He had to protect his team, above all. He had to protect Lucy.

“Get behind me, Luce,” Wyatt breathed, pushing her back behind him, his hand pressed against her waist. He could feel her clutching his shoulders as she pressed herself up against him, shivering with fear, and he vowed to make sure she was okay as soon as he got rid of this creep.

“You messed with the wrong man,” the creep spat, his eyes slits underneath his bushy eyebrows. He felt Lucy flinch and he tightened his hold on her waist, trying to comfort her. “Tomorrow, high noon. Out there.” He pointed over his shoulder to the middle of town. “We’ll see who gets the lady.”

“How’s about you let the lady choose?” Lucy shot back from over Wyatt’s shoulder. Wyatt stiffened, watching the man’s reaction as Lucy peeked over Wyatt’s shoulder, her cheek dangerously close to his.

The man let out a booming laugh, his hand clutching his belt as he tossed his head back.

“Very well, ma'am,” he acquiesced, and both Wyatt and Lucy straightened, shocked. “Make your choice. Is he really worth fighting for?”

He felt Lucy’s eyes on him as she turned her head, and he heard her whisper, “yes,” before he felt her small hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers, crushing her lips to his.

Wyatt responded immediately, his arms encircling her small waist, pulling her closer as he moaned into the kiss. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been wanting to do this all day. He kissed her forcefully, hungrily, and Lucy gasped, gripping his hair in her fists, her body pressed flush against his. He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Lucy’s fingers trailed down to grab at his collar, pulling him closer to her. She walked backward, dragging him with her until she was pressed up against a wall in a corner of the tavern.

Wyatt pressed his body up against hers, bracing his arms on either side of her as he continued to kiss her, gentler now that they had some privacy. Lucy sighed, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek with her fingertips, and he slowly pulled away, breathing heavily as he looked down at Lucy. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was taking quick, short breaths, and he wondered if kissing her like that had been such a good idea while she was strapped into that corset.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, glancing down at her, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Lucy nodded breathlessly. She suddenly peeked over his shoulder.

“Is he gone?” she asked quietly, and Wyatt felt tingles down his spine as her breath washed over his neck. He turned, still pressed against Lucy, surveying the tavern. The man was nowhere to be seen, and he hoped that he’d gotten the hint when Lucy had dragged Wyatt into the corner.

She’d made her choice.

“Yeah, I don’t see him,” he breathed, turning back to her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, worried about how pale she’d suddenly gotten. She nodded, still breathing heavily, and he worried it wasn’t because of the kiss anymore.

“I just,” she gasped, and he saw her sway. He held her tight in his arms, immediately, pulling her further into the tavern, back behind a wall. He pushed her up against the wall, his hands on her face.

“Lucy, talk to me. What’s going on?” he demanded, his eyes wide with worry. She motioned to her corset as her head collapsed against the wall, and Wyatt quickly pulled his knife, making one long cut into the side of her corset.

The garment popped off, hitting Wyatt in the stomach as Lucy gasped for air, coughing as Wyatt held her. He breathed a sigh of relief into her hair as he held her while she caught her breath.

“Better?” he asked, pulling away to look down at her. She nodded, the color coming back into her cheeks now. His gaze flicked down to her lips. “We should find Rufus,” he blurted. Lucy nodded, taking slow deep breaths.

He grasped her hand in his, tugging her upstairs to find their pilot.

* * *

_August 14, 1945_

Wyatt chased Emma through the crowded streets of New York City as soldiers and civilians cheered and embraced each other. It was August 14, 1945, and the U.S. had just won victory over Japan.

Wyatt paused, getting caught up in the middle of the crowd, and Emma slipped away once again. He cursed, scanning the crowd for Lucy and Rufus instead.

“Wyatt,” a voice called out and he spun around at the sound, his eyes wide. He searched for her little white dress, but the purpose of their wardrobe team was to make them blend in, and Lucy did a fabulous job of doing so in that moment.

“Lucy!” He raced through the streets, shoving his way through the crowd.

“Whoa, sailor!” A man grabbed Wyatt’s shoulder, spinning him around. “No need to rush, the war is over!” He handed Wyatt a bottle of something, taking a swig from his own bottle. “Grab a girl and celebrate!” Wyatt perked up at that, slinging his arm around the man’s shoulder.

“You know, I’m actually looking for my girl,” he explained. “Dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a white dress.”

“Wyatt!”

He spun around just in time to catch Lucy in his arms. She was shaking, and he held on to her tightly, pressing kisses into her hair as he whispered soothingly in her ear. His eyes slipped shut as he carded his fingers through her hair, trying to calm her down.

“You found her!” Wyatt and Lucy pulled away from each other, frowning at the man who was grinning at them, holding his beer bottle aloft. “Well, go on, sailor! Kiss her!”

Wyatt stiffened at that, feeling Lucy freeze in his arms as well. He was about to make up an excuse when he saw a photographer out of the corner of his eye, taking shots of couples. Wyatt glanced around, suddenly recognizing the area of Times Square they were in. He knew who that photographer was.

He pulled Lucy closer, dipping her. She gasped as he held her firmly, his bright blue eyes staring down at her lips.

“For history,” he murmured before crushing his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. Lucy’s eyes shut as her hand reached up to cup the back of his head, her fingers twisting into his short hair, pulling him closer as he kissed her fervently.

He heard the flash go off and pulled away from Lucy, startled. Her lips were pink and slightly swollen, her eyes wide as he gently pulled her back up and into his chest.

“Wow!” The man exclaimed, taking a swig from his bottle. The photographer smiled at the two before moving through the crowd to capture more of the festivities.

“Well, that definitely changed,” Rufus muttered behind them, and both Lucy and Wyatt turned around, quickly jumping apart. “I’m almost positive you two weren’t the original V-J Day couple.”

Lucy shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “Come on, Emma must be back in the present by now,” she offered, and Wyatt nodded his confirmation that she’d gotten away. “Let’s go home.”

When they got home, Jiya was grinning like a maniac, holding up a copy of the famous photo from V-J Day, smirking at the blushes she received from both Wyatt and Lucy.

Wyatt had a copy of the photo pinned up in his bedroom, but he’d never tell anyone that.

* * *

_April 13, 1781_

Lucy and Wyatt inched along after Abigail and John Adams, watching as they entered an unmarked building on the other end of town. Rufus caught up to them, out of breath. Lucy gently patted his back as he coughed, frowning down at him.

“Do we have any water?” she asked Wyatt gently and he pulled out his canteen, handing it to her. She gave it to Rufus, reminding him to take small sips, and Wyatt smirked at how motherly she was being.

He was suddenly struck with the idea of Lucy being a mother, and could see it in his mind’s eye. Lucy carrying a small dark-haired child on her hip, balancing a book in her lap as she read to them, feeding them cinnamon apples with a rubber spoon, rocking them to sleep in a rocking chair, singing softly to them as she laid them in their bed.

He could see it all.

And, he decidedly ignored the fact that the child’s eyes bore a striking resemblance to his as he cleared his throat, motioning for Lucy to come closer. He felt her hand in his and gripped her tightly, pulling her into his side, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“They’re coming back this way,” he muttered, watching as John and Abigail headed straight for them. Lucy nodded, and a piece of hair fell out of her updo. Wyatt absently tucked it back into place, his fingers brushing the shell of her ear.

“What’s the plan?” Lucy whispered, and Wyatt glanced around. There wasn’t much to hide behind, and they couldn’t risk being seen by John Adams; he’d already had a run-in with Lucy earlier that morning, and Wyatt wasn’t looking forward to them meeting again.

“What exactly are the views on PDA in this time period?” he mumbled, still looking around. Lucy scoffed.

“Oh, that’s unheard of. It’s entirely inappropriate, people would avert their eyes immediately if that ever occurred,” she explained. Wyatt turned to her, smirking.

“Sounds like a plan,” he breathed, and before Lucy could ask him what he meant, he’d swiftly captured her lips with his, his hand cupping her cheek, hiding her face from John as he drew closer to the couple. Lucy sighed into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, her fingers wrapping around his collar, pulling him closer, and he was reminded of when he’d kissed her in a tavern in 1875.

That seemed like it had been years ago - and technically it was years to  _come -_ but it had only been a month. One month since he’d kissed Lucy again since that first time in Bonnie and Clyde’s cabin, and Wyatt was becoming an addict. He moaned as his thumb brushed over Lucy’s cheek, stroking her soft skin.

“Yeah, guys, they’re long gone,” Rufus called, clearly amused. Wyatt slowly pulled away from Lucy, staring down at her, his eyes wide. Lucy licked her lips as she composed herself, and he quickly disentangled himself from her embrace.

“Right,” she breathed, clearing her throat. Wyatt stole a glance at her, loving the way her cheeks had brightened considerably and her lips looked slightly swollen. She looked loved; loved by him.

He wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and drag her into one of these buildings, press her up against a wall with no corset to labor her breathing this time, and have his way with her. He wanted to feel those legs wrapped around his body, run his fingers over her soft skin, kiss her as long as he wanted.

Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction the Adams’ had just gone, Rufus trailing behind them snickering. He’d find a moment alone with her later; right now, they had to stop a certain meeting between John, Abigail, and Rittenhouse.

* * *

_February 19, 1979_

Lucy frowned as she pressed a cool cloth to Rufus’ forehead as he laid stretched out in the Lifeboat. Wyatt tugged at his collar, pacing as Lucy worried over their teammate.

“We can’t just leave you here, Rufus,” Lucy was whispering, but Rufus was shaking his head.

“You have to,” he urged. “I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep for a bit. This will pass.” He turned toward Wyatt, who was still pacing. “But, you need to find Emma and listen in on the Rittenhouse meeting.”

“What about you?” Wyatt asked suddenly, moving to stand next to Lucy at the mouth of the Lifeboat. “Lucy’s right, we can’t just leave you here. And who’s to say you’ll be well enough to get us back home?” Rufus shrugged, smirking up at Wyatt as he lay back down, getting as comfortable as he could.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Which is why, not an hour later, Lucy and Wyatt were both making their way into the Four Seasons in Washington, D.C. Lucy frowned up at the building as they entered, noticing guests coming and going as they pleased.

“Hang on,” she whispered, and Wyatt leaned in close to hear her. “This isn’t right.” He frowned.

“What’s not right?” Lucy shook her head, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion as she glanced around the lobby, busy with guests checking in and out, calling for busboys to help with their luggage, children running around as their parents fought with the staff.

“This hotel isn’t supposed to open officially until October this year,” she breathed, turning back to Wyatt. “How is it open now?”

Wyatt made his way over to the information desk, smiling easily at the young man behind the counter. Per usual, the young man only had eyes for Lucy, his face brightening as she moved next to Wyatt, smiling politely at him.

“Well, hello, miss,” the man drawled, and Wyatt stiffened. “How may I help you?” Wyatt cleared his throat, taking a step closer to the desk, his eyebrows raised in challenge.

“My husband and I were just wondering why you opened the hotel early,” Lucy replied, linking her arm with Wyatt’s. He tried to ignore the thrill that hearing the word 'husband’ coming from her lips sent through him. “I could’ve sworn I’d read somewhere that you weren’t supposed to open until October of this year.” She giggled, batting her eyelashes and Wyatt watched as the young man’s cheeks colored as he smiled up at Lucy.

Wyatt glanced at Lucy, all wide-eyed and wonderful, and decided that if the kid behind the counter needed a reminder that she was a married woman, he wouldn’t mind playing that role one more time.

If he was being completely honest, it had stopped being just a role a long time ago.

“Well, yes, the initial plan was to open in October, I believe,” the young man explained, grinning at Lucy and ignoring Wyatt completely. Lucy tightened her grip on Wyatt’s arm, and the man’s eyes tracked the movement, his expression deflating slightly. “However, an anonymous donation made a couple years ago sped up construction, and we were able to open in December of last year!”

Lucy’s eyes widened and she clutched Wyatt’s arm in alarm. Wyatt bit back a hiss of pain as he placed his hand over Lucy’s, trying to loosen her grip.

“Thank you, sir,” Wyatt thanked the young man who nodded, sitting back down at his desk, answering the phones that had been ringing. “Relax, Luce,” he breathed as he led her away from the desk and down a hallway, toward the elevators.

“History’s changed already, Wyatt,” she whispered, and he could tell she was on the verge of tears. He picked her hand up from his arm, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Her breath caught as she glanced up at him.

“One problem at a time,” he reminded her wryly, smirking as his lips brushed her fingertips. “Now, where would be the best place to hold a secret meeting?” Lucy shrugged, frowning as she looked around.

“Wyatt,” she whispered, straightening up and Wyatt followed her gaze.

Emma.

The redhead quickly hopped into an elevator, and Wyatt and Lucy watched as the doors closed and she traveled up to the fifth floor.

“Alright, I guess they’d be on the fifth floor,” Wyatt mumbled, pulling Lucy into an elevator with him, pressing the number 'five’ on the panel of numbers. The elevator traveled quicker than he expected of an elevator in 1979, and he slowly crept out of the elevator, surveying the area before he reached behind him, taking Lucy’s hand in his.

“Rittenhouse summit, 1979,” Lucy muttered under her breath as they both turned the corner and scanned the hallway for signs of Emma. “Wait, there,” she whispered pointing to the far end of the hallway. Emma had just walked into the ballroom, and they heard the loud  _click_  of a lock.

“Great,” Wyatt sighed, pulling Lucy over to the ballroom, pressing his ear up against the door. Lucy waited silently, watching Wyatt’s expressions.

“Anything?” she asked finally, unable to keep quiet much longer. Wyatt shook his head, frustrated.

“No, I can’t hear anything,” he mumbled. “Either nothing’s happening or Emma brought them tech from 2017 to make the room soundproof.” Lucy frowned; she hadn’t thought of that.

She was about to suggest that they try to listen from the floor above when two voices sounded from down by the elevators.

“Has it already started?” one loud voice asked, and another quietly replied yes. “Can’t be late, can we? Next one’s not for twenty-five years!”

Lucy’s eyes met Wyatt’s, panicked. Wyatt quickly pulled her toward the rooms that lined either side of the hallway leading to the ballroom. He set to work on picking one of the locks as the voices grew closer.

“Wyatt,” Lucy whispered as he fiddled with the lock, trying to unlock the door before the men rounded the corner and got suspicious. Lucy suddenly grabbed his collar, flipping him around, pressing him back into the wall next to the door. “Do you trust me?” she breathed, and he nodded, knowing that he’d trust her with his life.

Lucy’s gaze bounced between his eyes and his lips as she slowly leaned in, gently brushing her lips against his. Her eyes slipped shut as Wyatt breathed her in, one hand resting on her hip, the other cupping her cheek, pulling her closer to him. Lucy moaned, and Wyatt lost any ounce of control he had left. He quickly flipped them around, his mouth still firmly attached to hers, all but slamming her back into the door he’d tried breaking into moments ago. She gasped as he grazed his teeth over her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. She tasted like the cinnamon rolls he’d made that morning as they’d sat in his apartment, knowing they’d be called into Mason Industries soon.

Lucy quickly responded, her hands fisting in his suit jacket, his lapels wrinkling in her firm grip as she tugged him closer, kissing him hungrily. He moaned softly as he allowed his hands to roam her body, his fingers brushing up her sides, relishing in the small shiver he elicited from her.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and they slowly pulled apart, their eyes wide and trained on each other, suddenly forgetting why they’d stopped kissing in the first place. “Are you two planning on entering your room?” a man asked, and Lucy turned her head to find the young man from the information desk standing there, his arms crossed, his toe tapping impatiently. Wyatt smiled politely, gently turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. Lucy’s eyes widened, and she frowned at Wyatt who dismissed it with a shake of his head.

“Have a lovely evening,” Lucy called out as the young man rolled his eyes and made his way back to the elevators. “How did you do that?” she asked Wyatt once he was out of sight. Wyatt pulled her into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

“I was almost done picking the lock when you kissed me,” Wyatt teased her, and her cheeks colored, just as he’d hoped.

“You weren’t exactly complaining,” she shot back playfully, and Wyatt smirked at her, pulling her closer to him. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, his thumb dragging across her bottom lip.

“As much as I’d like to finish what you just started,” he breathed, noticing the change in her breathing as he brushed their noses together. “We really should find out what’s going on in that room.”

Lucy nodded, her forehead resting against his, her eyes shut. Wyatt watched her, smiling softly; she looked so peaceful, and he’d give anything to just forget about Rittenhouse and take her home, into his apartment, into his room, lay her out on his bed.

But now was not the time for those thoughts.

So, he backed away, taking her hand in his, and pulled her out of the room they’d broken into, trying not to think about how beautiful she would look spread out on the crisp sheets of the queen size in that hotel room. There would be plenty of time for that later, once they figured out why Emma was here.

They never did figure it out, and once they were back in the present, Lucy fell asleep on the car ride back to Wyatt’s so he gently scooped her up from his passenger seat and carried her inside, depositing her on the couch, tucking the blankets close around her.

* * *

_March 9, 2017_

Rufus stared blankly back at Wyatt. Five times. Wyatt and Lucy had kissed five times. He still couldn’t believe it. Wyatt nodded awkwardly, suddenly interested in his shoes.

“Oh,” Rufus mumbled, and Wyatt glanced up, noticing Rufus looking at something over Wyatt’s shoulder, and he spun around in his seat, coming face to face with Lucy, standing in the doorway, tears in her eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked her. He vaguely heard Rufus mumble an excuse and quickly leave the room, leaving Lucy and Wyatt alone. She slowly walked toward him, a tear sliding down her cheek. He fought the urge to reach up and brush it away.

“Long enough,” she replied, wiping the tear away and tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. “I, uh,” she paused, taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt replied lamely, standing from his seat. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, gesturing toward the door. Lucy shook her head, and he waited.

“Why?” she asked, frowning softly at him, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Luce,” he whispered, looking back at her. “I guess it’s just something that’s easy to keep track of.” He never could forget what it was like to kiss her, especially not after the one in 1875. He’d had a taste of what he’d felt for a split second in Bonnie and Clyde’s cabin and, dammit, he wanted more.

Maybe that’s what prompted him to kiss her for the photograph in 1945, and he knew without a doubt it’s definitely what made him want to kiss her in 1781.

He didn’t need to keep track; he hadn’t been doing so on purpose. It was just something he’d always remember, and he’d always remember exactly how many times it had happened.

Wyatt smiled at her, heading for the door and opening it, holding it for her. Lucy frowned, turning toward him.

“Can I ask you something?” Lucy asked abruptly, and Wyatt nodded, suddenly worried. “I know we haven’t really talked about it, and I’m not sure why I’m even asking, but I just need to know.”

Wyatt frowned, taking a step closer to her, still holding the door open. He reached his other hand out to intertwine her fingers with his, brushing his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand.

“Lucy, you can ask me anything,” he urged gently, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. His heart pounded as she licked her lips, his eyes tracking the movement.

“Is it still just a role?” she whispered, so quiet he’d barely heard her.

But he had heard her.

Wyatt paused, his hand stilling in her own. Was it still a role? It had been, he reasoned, that first time. He hadn’t been expecting the feelings that had erupted when his lips first met Lucy’s, but he’d quickly squashed those down. He had to get Jessica back, he kept telling himself.

But, then he’d gone and tried to save his wife, and nothing had come of it. Sure, he’d saved those two other girls, and that was good news, but his wife was still dead. He was beginning to think that no matter what they’d changed, nothing would ever bring her back to him.

Then, there was that conversation he’d had with Lucy about possibilities. Holding her in his arms, knowing it would be the last time he’d see her, knowing that no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to stay in touch with her; it had almost broken him completely. He’d realized he never wanted to say goodbye to Lucy; not then, not when her sister was finally back and everything was over, not ever.

And then, Emma had stolen the Mothership, throwing them back into the whirlwind of time travel and Wyatt had focused solely on protecting his team, making sure Lucy was alright after everything she’d discovered about her family, and trying not to be too happy about the fact that he would be able to spend a little more time with her.

The kiss in 1875 had been a role at first, but he remembered when Lucy had pulled him away, seemingly dragging him off to have her way with the man she’d chosen much to the creep’s dismay, and he’d held her in his arms, kissing her gently. That hadn’t been a role.

And then, in 1945, when the man had urged him to kiss her, and the photographer was searching for his big break, that had supposedly been a role. He was trying to save history, and had warned her as much before he’d dipped her. The pretense of the kiss had been a role, yes, but not the kiss itself. That was all Wyatt and Lucy. That hadn’t been a role.

In 1781, all Wyatt could think about was dragging Lucy into a building and pushing her up against a wall, but satisfied himself with kissing her in the middle of a crowded street, telling himself that it was just because it was a distraction, it was to keep her safe by hiding her in plain sight. Wyatt knew the truth: it had been an excuse to kiss her again. He had been the one to suggest PDA, after all. That hadn’t been a role; that had definitely not been a role.

Washington, D.C. 1979. That hadn’t even been  _him_. That was all Lucy, and he felt the familiar thrill as he recalled her pushing him back into the wall, gently brushing her lips against his, as if asking permission. Then, she’d let that moan slip, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. All he knew was that he needed her, right there, and had let himself take charge, slamming her up against the door.

He remembered the teasing banter they’d exchanged in the hotel room they’d hidden in for a few moments, waiting for the man from the information desk to go away. He remembered imagining her spread out on his bedspread, covering her body with his own, feeling her soft skin under his fingertips. That hadn’t been a role.

So, was it still just a role?

“No, ma'am,” Wyatt growled, pulling Lucy into his arms, his hands wrapping around her waist, his lips finding hers instantly. He heard the door slam shut, but he paid no attention to it as Lucy’s hands migrated from his shoulders, sliding up the back of his neck and twisting into his hair.

Lucy sighed, and he quickly dropped his hands to her thighs, lifting her up and turning to hold her up against the door he’d just closed. She gasped and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as her legs wrapped around his middle, holding their bodies together. Wyatt moaned, the feel of her legs wrapped around him even better than he’d imagined.

All of his earlier fantasies came rushing back at him, and he moved his mouth from hers to trail kisses from her jaw to her neck, nipping and sucking as Lucy’s hands scrambled over his back.

“God, Lucy,” he breathed against her skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Lucy moaned breathlessly, pulling his mouth back to hers. Her hands framed his face, her fingertips dancing across his cheeks.

“Me too,” she whispered between kisses, her voice soft.

A sharp knock on the door pulled their attention away from each other, and Lucy flinched as she felt each knock against her back.

“You guys ready?” Rufus called gently through the door, and Lucy locked eyes with Wyatt, a wide smile spreading across her face.

Her head fell forward into the crook of his neck as she giggled uncontrollably. He laughed along with her, clearing his throat.

“We’ll be out in a minute, Rufus,” Wyatt called, moving a hand to cradle Lucy’s head against his neck. He heard Rufus mumble something about  _so not wanting to know what was going on in there_  as he slowly set Lucy down on the ground, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He smoothed his hands over her face, looking down at her, smiling softly. Lucy grinned up at him, her eyes bright.

“Six,” she whispered, and he frowned down at her.

“What?” Lucy giggled again, slipping her hand into his as she opened the door, pulling him out into the hallway.

“It’s six now,” she said simply, “since you’re keeping track,” she teased. He chuckled, realizing what she meant. He pulled her into his side, tucking his arm around her shoulders.

“Just wait until we get home,” he breathed, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “It’ll be in the double digits soon enough.”

Rufus tried not to dwell on the fact that his teammates were most definitely together now, if they hadn’t been already, though he did wonder who’d made the first move.

He had a bet to worry about, after all.


End file.
